I was recently at a wetland reserve where maybe 3000 snow geese and as many Sandhill Cranes came in! The snow geese flying one way, then turning as an undulating group the other way, creating waves of golden early morning light and energy was so exciting to watch!! Then after they landed, we drove to them and parked. We weren't allowed out of our cars and we didn't want to startle them anyway. Sitting that close to them we felt as if though we we part of their flock. It was the closest I have ever been to them. I haven't downloaded my photos yet, but it will be in one of my Substacks when I do.
To begin my comment I must react to the ‘darkness’, so I can return to the light.“The corruption blurs connections, smearing into something we can’t quite hold still”. And inside the blur, it is all very clear. We know. Our blurred understanding is enough to know what is right.“ That will be the question that time and history—as well as our older selves—will ask. That stinging cavernous, gaping chasm that has separated an entire country, the world, families and friends; how so many—took it as permission to hate—did not know the difference between right and wrong.
🕊️ How beautiful, Bill. They were shadow and light. An alchemical artistic arrangement not even one of the great masters of history could paint. Stripped down to movement, breath, heartbeat— the very core of survival. Only emotion is shared. Spring migration—once again claiming ‘home’. Like kindness and good deeds, it is a centripetal force continually circling— constantly returning to the giver—wrapping arms and wings with the greatest of life force: Love.“I see us as ten thousand souls grabbing hold of the thread that connects us.” Arms within words are wrapping around me this morning, in comfort and love.🙏
You moved through it the same way the essay tries to — into the darkness first, then back toward the light. That's the only honest path. Thank you for the arms and wings. I feel them.
I've never been lucky enough to see the huge flocks of birds that you write about/photograph ... growing up in Florida, there were little groups of pelicans and seagulls at the coast where I lived. I really liked your metaphor of the thread pulling tight and I could see in my mind how the people in Minnesota under attack seemed to 'naturally' flock and figured how to pull the thread tight even though they hadn't lately experienced it. Still, as you noted, it's in our DNA and if there's a positive tilt to this horrific group of damaged people in charge of our country right now, it's that they're forcing us (at times, anyway, and in some places, anyway) to close the gaps that need closing. Thank you, as always, for your writing and what you do with the camera.
Gorgeous way to view the wintering flocks-the blurring of the edges a revelation. And a beautiful way to remind us what we can do to move forward, hold each other up, ride in each other's wake.
beautiful sentiments & photos -- we need to clear our heads of the orange fever and take time to embrace the flow of time and the power of good people who stand up.
There is a force for love and good in the universe. A piece of it lives in me. I choose to hold onto that, one day at a time. Let go of anything I cannot control, do what I can to nurture myself and my immediate environment. One day at a time.
So eloquently said for so many of us, “It gave me the strength to inhabit the tension between the comfort of nature and the discomfort our culture is producing.”
Your writing is a call to the flock to gather. I hear it!
The blurred geese look surprisingly like rays swimming through a clear ocean, their wide wings the result of convergent evolution in a much denser medium.
so moving...gratidude for your endurance, Bill. Over London yesterday, I watched thousands, maybe millions, of stsrlings swooping across the sky in waves. Must be nesting-time.
Thank you. As I help an immigrant, your images remind me that energetically I am connected to a vast and growing network of humans finding ways to express compassion. Nature is always reminding us of essential qualities we have nearly forgotten.
That stitching of the visual to the verbal is your gift for those of us who are away from the heartland of the Twin Cities. We miss it. We can draft - cycling behind your prose -our own thoughts and feelings about The Ice Men when they come for us here on the west coast.
Another beautiful piece. Those of us who spend so much time inside, hunkered down with pain and worry, need to get outside if we are to survive.
I was recently at a wetland reserve where maybe 3000 snow geese and as many Sandhill Cranes came in! The snow geese flying one way, then turning as an undulating group the other way, creating waves of golden early morning light and energy was so exciting to watch!! Then after they landed, we drove to them and parked. We weren't allowed out of our cars and we didn't want to startle them anyway. Sitting that close to them we felt as if though we we part of their flock. It was the closest I have ever been to them. I haven't downloaded my photos yet, but it will be in one of my Substacks when I do.
To begin my comment I must react to the ‘darkness’, so I can return to the light.“The corruption blurs connections, smearing into something we can’t quite hold still”. And inside the blur, it is all very clear. We know. Our blurred understanding is enough to know what is right.“ That will be the question that time and history—as well as our older selves—will ask. That stinging cavernous, gaping chasm that has separated an entire country, the world, families and friends; how so many—took it as permission to hate—did not know the difference between right and wrong.
🕊️ How beautiful, Bill. They were shadow and light. An alchemical artistic arrangement not even one of the great masters of history could paint. Stripped down to movement, breath, heartbeat— the very core of survival. Only emotion is shared. Spring migration—once again claiming ‘home’. Like kindness and good deeds, it is a centripetal force continually circling— constantly returning to the giver—wrapping arms and wings with the greatest of life force: Love.“I see us as ten thousand souls grabbing hold of the thread that connects us.” Arms within words are wrapping around me this morning, in comfort and love.🙏
You moved through it the same way the essay tries to — into the darkness first, then back toward the light. That's the only honest path. Thank you for the arms and wings. I feel them.
I've never been lucky enough to see the huge flocks of birds that you write about/photograph ... growing up in Florida, there were little groups of pelicans and seagulls at the coast where I lived. I really liked your metaphor of the thread pulling tight and I could see in my mind how the people in Minnesota under attack seemed to 'naturally' flock and figured how to pull the thread tight even though they hadn't lately experienced it. Still, as you noted, it's in our DNA and if there's a positive tilt to this horrific group of damaged people in charge of our country right now, it's that they're forcing us (at times, anyway, and in some places, anyway) to close the gaps that need closing. Thank you, as always, for your writing and what you do with the camera.
Beautiful Bill - Nature speaks we MUST begin to listen.
Gorgeous way to view the wintering flocks-the blurring of the edges a revelation. And a beautiful way to remind us what we can do to move forward, hold each other up, ride in each other's wake.
beautiful sentiments & photos -- we need to clear our heads of the orange fever and take time to embrace the flow of time and the power of good people who stand up.
There is a force for love and good in the universe. A piece of it lives in me. I choose to hold onto that, one day at a time. Let go of anything I cannot control, do what I can to nurture myself and my immediate environment. One day at a time.
So eloquently said for so many of us, “It gave me the strength to inhabit the tension between the comfort of nature and the discomfort our culture is producing.”
Your writing is a call to the flock to gather. I hear it!
That line found its way back to me through you — thank you for that. And yes, glad the call landed.
The blurred geese look surprisingly like rays swimming through a clear ocean, their wide wings the result of convergent evolution in a much denser medium.
I thought the same thing. There is something about the shape of their wings that made me think of rays.
I similarly thought they were like flying fish. Stunning photos 😍
"The updraft is waiting, and the thread is in our hands."
Thank you Bill, thank you. The wisdom and beauty we need right now.
so moving...gratidude for your endurance, Bill. Over London yesterday, I watched thousands, maybe millions, of stsrlings swooping across the sky in waves. Must be nesting-time.
Yes, yes, and yes!
Thank you. As I help an immigrant, your images remind me that energetically I am connected to a vast and growing network of humans finding ways to express compassion. Nature is always reminding us of essential qualities we have nearly forgotten.
The work you're doing is the thread made real. Thank you for being in it.
That stitching of the visual to the verbal is your gift for those of us who are away from the heartland of the Twin Cities. We miss it. We can draft - cycling behind your prose -our own thoughts and feelings about The Ice Men when they come for us here on the west coast.
That image of drafting — cycling behind the prose — I'll carry that. The flyways don't stop at the Rockies. Glad the birds found you out there.
Simply beautiful, both words and pictures. Thinking of all you “good” Americans from over here in Europe.
Don’t give up, there will be an end to it! 🤗